“I was left alone there in the company of orchids, roses and violets, which, like people waiting beside you who do not know you, preserved a silence which their individuality as living things made all the more striking, . . .” Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time, Vol II

This fall I spent, sitting by a window, reading and reviewing essays on walking — walking as methodology, walking as a way to index the infinite ways in which the world manifests — and something inthe text reminded me of this passage about orchids, roses and violets. I had been thinking for days on end about the artists I invited to participate in this exhibition, about their work. I was waiting for an inspiration to verbalize the unconscious similarities I had thought were inherent in their practices in order to justify a desire to have each and every one of them be a part of this exhibition, and so it came.

The works comprising this exhibition, in their singularity and unsuspected togetherness, present to us an accumulation ofpersonal histories; a series of imaginative incidents that were carefully composed and deliberately crafted. Through a variety ofmaterials and mediums, the participating artists translate thepermanence and impermanence of a memory, of a sentiment, of a moment of vulnerability or blooming sensuality. I welcome you to walk through a space where to index is to experience a nomadic journey across gestures—forms that focus on the possibility contained within the ephemeral and concrete. I invite the audience to find and lose themselves in a space filled with living things.